He had dragged a chair in front of the fireplace, and his feet planted inside the fender, his head held between his hands, he was hanging low over the glowing grate.

His teeth rattled with an ungovernable violence, causing his whole enormous back to tremble at the same rate.

Mrs Verloc was startled.
"You've been getting wet," she said.
"Not very," Mr Verloc managed to falter out, in a profound shudder.

By a great effort he suppressed the rattling of his teeth.
"I'll have you laid up on my hands," she said, with genuine uneasiness.
"I don't think so," remarked Mr Verloc, snuffling huskily.
He had certainly contrived somehow to catch an abominable cold between seven in the morning and five in the afternoon.

Mrs Verloc looked at his bowed back.
"Where have you been to-day ?" she asked.
"Nowhere," answered Mr Verloc in a low, choked nasal tone.